


Not your saviour

by Natalia_lives



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, their relationship before the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalia_lives/pseuds/Natalia_lives
Summary: "Then there they were once again. Standing in Sherlock’s front door, didn’t know what to do. They even had time now. Sherlock chewed on his lips and watched his shoes, hands deep in his pocket. Lestrade drew his eyebrows together and looked over Sherlock’s shoulders.“Will you came up?” Sherlock didn’t look up and he was quiet. Lestrade looked at the wavy mess. “All right, I go up.” His voice was just as quiet. "They had a little undefined relationship, but they broke up before John shows up.





	Not your saviour

Lestrade should have parted from Sherlock quite a few blocks ago. But there was always one sentence that had to be added to the topic, so now they were standing in front of Sherlock’s door. After a few more sentences they said everything that could have been said. They stood in an unconformable silence. One of them had to break it first. So they broke it together.

“There’s an interesting case that I just find...” Blurted out Sherlock.

“I should really go.” Muttered Lestrade.

Sherlock looked into Lestrade’s eyes. The DI looked back for a second, and then looked at his watch. Way too late, he really should go. Sherlock watch his face intensively. Then he pretended he didn’t saw the worry on the DI’s face.

“So, you came up for a sec?” His voice was higher than usual and he chewed his upper lips for a moment. His eyes were big.

Lestrade inspected the face then sighted. “All right, show me.” His voice was kind and gentle.

* * *

 

They stood in front of Sherlock’s again. They played out this scenario quite a few times already. Yet they still needed some pretence.

“Tell me you have something interesting this time as well.” Lestrade voice was a bit desperate.

“We’ll find something.” Smiled Sherlock thinly.

* * *

 

“Wow. You cleared your room.”Lestrade’s voice echoed honest surprise as he looked over the room. He used the word cleaned; others would never even consider that. But others have never seen Sherlock’s room before.

“You mentioned I should.” Said Sherlock shortly while headed to the small kitchenette. “Want some drink?”  “Tea please.”

Lestrade settled on the small sofa. In theory he didn’t have time to be here, but he banished this worrying thought. Sherlock came to the sofa with the mugs on a tray. He handed one of them to the DI, and then went to his armchair. “I am more than surprised, you even washed the mugs.” Lestrade had to laugh at that good heartedly. Sherlock’s face was guarded, but his eyes showed joy.

* * *

 

They do this for months. A few times a week, or every second week Lestrade went up to Sherlock. Sometimes they looked over cases, sometimes just sat there. Sometimes they drank tea, sometimes something stronger. It was agreeable for both of them.

Sherlock knew if he stays clean the DI will spend more time with him. And the good DI had some problems he could forget while he spent time with Sherlock.

Then one day a physical aspect started to appear between them. Shoulders brushing together, a hand staying on a shoulder longer than it should, a little touch here and there...  Yet they pretended it didn’t happen.

* * *

 

It was a tiring case, that bloody perpetrator was a runner. They had to chase him for hours long...  After locking him up, and filling out all the papers they gave themselves an early leave.

Lestrade saw Sherlock was contemplating something, but didn’t know how to say it out loud.

“C’mon, I walk you home.” Said the DI kindly.

They walked in a friendly silence. Actually they didn’t know what to say, so the silence was the better option.

Then there they were once again. Standing in Sherlock’s front door, didn’t know what to do. They even had time now. Sherlock chewed on his lips and watched his shoes, hands deep in his pocket. Lestrade drew his eyebrows together and looked over Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Will you came up?” Sherlock didn’t look up and he was quiet. Lestrade looked at the wavy mess. “All right, I go up.” His voice was just as quiet. 

They took the stairs slowly up to the flat. Sherlock went in first, holding the door open for Lestrade. He hung up his coat and headed to the kitchenette wordlessly.  Lestrade hung up his coat as well. He stepped to Sherlock’s desk, chemistry, history and physics books. Notes left in half, music sheets, some printed while other hand written. He heard him play the violin a few times.

“Tea’s ready.” Said the voice behind Lestrade. He turned back, picked one of the mugs and sat down. Before sitting down himself, Sherlock turned one of the lamps on and sat next to him. The room was a state of pleasant semidarkness.

They talked about small things. Made a few jokes on Anderson’s expanse. But there was something between them...

Then it happened after they finished their teas. Sherlock put the mugs away and sat back. Lestrade turned to him to say something, when the younger man kissed him on the lips. Then just as fast as it happened leaned back.  Eyes grown wide and desperate.  But before he could say anything Lestrade slipped a hand behind his neck and drew him closer. This time the kiss was longer and deeper.

They both leaned back after it finished. Now they really were speechless.  

The fact that it happened wasn’t a surprise for neither of them, but still they had no idea how to go further.

Then hurriedly Sherlock jumped up. “Sorry I asked you up and sorry what just happened, and...”  He didn’t finished his sentence, just muttered to himself and started to pace. Lestrade observed him for a minute then stood up. With a few steps he stood in front of him. “Sherlock” He looked at him. “It’s all right. It’s all right.” Lestrade’s voice was calm and slowly put his hand on his Sherlock arm. He looked back at him and smiled tightly, then stepped out of the light grip. Lestrade’s hand fell back. He let out a long sigh. Sherlock was standing by the window, back to him. The DI silently made his way out.

* * *

 

Then they pretended it never happened. After two weeks Lestrade was once again sitting on the small sofa, sipping tea and happily chatting about some bloody and complicated case. That was that.

* * *

 

Sherlock got to Lestrade’s division about ten minutes go, but the DI office door was shut. Not that it ever bothered him. He was about to open the door when he realised, the other man is on the phone. Personal type.  So ever so slowly he let go of the doorknob and turned back. What better to do till the DI finishes, than to insult poor Anderson?!

* * *

 

And then it happened. They finished their day in the neighbourhood, so naturally they walked together to Sherlock’s. They were so deep in the conversation; they didn’t even realised they stood there a good twenty minutes.

“So, thanks again for todays help.” Smiled Lestrade still heated from the chase. “You’re welcome.” Sherlock actually really did enjoy it. 

Lestrade looked at his watch. “Too late for a tea?” Asked Sherlock innocently. Lestrade looked into his eyes for a moment. The bastard was a good actor and he probably had his suspicions about his personal problems. Then he tilted his head up and made a grotesque face. “All right, I go up, but give me a second, have to make a call.” Sherlock nodded silently.

“Yeah, hi. – I know it’s late. – Yeah, yeah, yeah. – Actually that’s why I’m calling, it’s an all nighters, don’t know when I get home. Sorry. – OK. – By.” Lestrade stepped back to Sherlock. The younger man inspected him for a moment. “Shall we?” And opened the door.

They sipped their tea in silent. Sherlock’s mind was working like a machine. He knew, he understood what that phone call meant. It was a sign, a sign to him, and now it’s his call to make. Yes, he as arrogant at times, and paid little attentions to emotions, and he knew he was generally right. But because of these making a wrong move meant even bigger failure in his eyes.

He put his mug down.

He sat back comfortably.

He stared into his lap and tried to calm his breathing.

The other man was talking about something, he didn’t hear it.

Then he looked straight into the set of eyes in front of him.

The room was in total silent.

It started slowly, unsure and became virtuoso. Hands started their little exploring ways. They were inpatient, but even in that state they knew the sofa wasn’t big in enough. In various state of undressing they fumbled they way to the bed in the corner. By the time they worked the covers down, they were both naked. Clanged to the other tightly. Kissing every square inch on the other. Caressing the other’s body everywhere.

* * *

 

It wasn’t just sex, no; it was all the emotional pent up that needed to be let out.

* * *

 

That happened in the third year of Sherlock and Lestrade’s friendship.

* * *

 

Sherlock cleared his act more and more. He got more and more case on his own, helped Lestrade crack real tricky ones. Over all, life went on. That meant that their little undefined relationship continued as well. Sometimes they spent only the evening together, sometimes Lestrade popped in early morning, sometimes spent the whole night there.

 

During a slow and paperwork filled afternoon Lestrade started to think through, the first time really since it started, their relationship. He enjoyed it. It helped not having to face the problems home. Sherlock seems to like it. He came a long way since he knew him... and he could get even better...

* * *

 

They had sex early in the evening, after that for long hours they just laid on the bed naked, not really talking, just enjoying the closeness.

“Sherlock” Lestrade knew what this few sentences of him will cause. But he had to... “What?” Sherlock’s voice was quiet and a bit dreamy.

“I think – I think we should stop this.” Sherlock sat up slowly and looked down to the man next to him. His face was unreadable but his eyes were big and slightly panicked. Lestrade sat up as well. Their faces were inches apart. He continued whisperingly. “You are getting better and better. You really should move into a bigger, normal flat, this, this only hold you back. Look you even started to dress differently. I belong to this world. And...” He had to clear his throat. “And I want to try to, to clear things with her as well...” He ran his hand through his hair and face. He breathed loudly. Sherlock inspected him closely for minutes.

“But you helped me get this far, why ending it now?” He truly didn’t understand it; he demanded an answer for that. Their eyes were locked. Lestrade slowly closed his eyes. “Because, I’m not what you’ll need now on.” “How can you know that?!” “You knew that as well, just don’t want to think it through...” Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Slowly he turned away, switched the bedside lamp off and turned back. “You know what you’re doing?” Lestrade could hear small emotions in his voice. Anger, disappointment, despair, kindness... “I know.” He whispered back. Sherlock pulled him back to sleeping position again. He laid his head on the DI’s chest and hugged him close to him. Lestrade caressed his hair absentmindedly. He could hear the other man was awake.

* * *

 

“I thought it through...”

“And?”

“You’re right.”

“That’s all?”

“What else do you want?!”

“Nothing.”

“Good.”

Sherlock stud up from the chair, where he was sitting in the DI’s office.  “Ohh, and call me if anything interesting shows up.” And with that he swirled out from the office.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Actually I wanted to write something shorter and stronger with the actual sentence, „Not your saviour.” being sad by Lestrade, but it turned into this. Although one of my friend who read it, sad it’s pretty strong and sad as it is...


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